Wimp
by LewisMistreated
Summary: What happened to Guzma, in the bits of his life we didn't get to see? A cohesive narrative of all the in-game hints, with a healthy dose of drama. Post-SM plus flashbacks. K rating for one scene of verbal/implied physical abuse.
1. Part 1

[AN: Welcome to my third ever FF upload I guess! I've been sitting on this for a while because I feel it's only an 8/10 for my potential but it's getting to the point where nobody will care about pokemon sun/moon anymore so here goes! There are three chapters of grouped mini-chapters and it is 95% canon-compliant. Thanks for reading y'all!]

* * *

 **Route 2**

Despite all he'd said on the beach, Guzma was following him. Muttering profanity, shouting insults, and dawdling several paces behind – but he _was_ following him. Hala almost laughed. For all his swagger, he was still a child in so many ways.

When they reached the outskirts of the city, he stopped and turned, folding his arms and blocking the road. "Well?" he challenged.

"Well what?" Guzma yelled back, stopping several feet back and thrusting his hands into his pockets.

"If you keep following me, I'll take that to mean you're my student now."

"And if I don't?" he said, puffing his chest out.

Hala shrugged. "Then I don't care."

He turned around again and resumed his steady pace. He didn't have to turn back to know Guzma was still following. His pride would never let him be dismissed like that.

"I don't need you to teach me!" he insisted as they turned up the path towards Iki Town. "I'm already strong!"

Hala was glad Guzma couldn't see his smirk. "Then why are you following me?" he called back over his shoulder.

"I'm not following you! I'm just going the same way!"

"Your home is in the opposite direction," Hala pointed out as they entered the town.

There was no reply. Bemused, he turned to see Guzma glaring at the grass.

"That's not my home," he said.

Well now. _That_ was a little cause for concern.

"Still the opposite direction," Hala retorted, continuing his walk. He didn't get far before a familiar face appeared from his house. "Hau!" he called, waving his grandson over. They shared a quick hug.

Then Hau saw who was accompanying him, and gave an exaggerated jump back. "Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Tutu, you're being followed!"

"I'm not following him!" Guzma said, and then glared furiously as Hala let out a deep belly laugh and Hau grinned.

"I'm going to be teaching Guzma the skills of a real trainer," Hala explained. "So be nice, alright?"

"Of course!" Hau waved at Guzma, who ignored him.

"Don't mind him," Hala said, resuming their walk. "He's sulking."

The string of expletives Guzma gave in response only served to prove him right.

* * *

 **Home**

When Guzma woke up, he didn't recognise the ceiling above him. Nor did he recognise the bed. Unfortunately, he _did_ recognise the person who had opened his door to wake him up.

"Get out of here ya little punk!" he said, chucking a pillow in the kid's direction.

Hau didn't even dodge, laughing as it hit him in the torso. "It's gone noon, y'know? Aren't you hungry?"

He was, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that _he_ , the big bad Guzma of Team Skull...had been caught in bed asleep...in what looked like a shared bedroom...which meant someone had slept in the same room as him. Although Guzma was definitely very fearsome and very strong and therefore very intimidating, it was hard to be intimidating while you were snoring in bed. And he was pretty sure he snored.

"Anyway, who are you calling a punk?" Hau added. "C'mon, we're making lunch."

He left the door open as he departed, because clearly he wanted to be annoying. Guzma shuffled down the bed just far enough that he could kick it shut, and then stretched out, hands behind his head.

 _Guzma, what are you doing?_

Living with the kahuna, apparently.

 _What is wrong with you?_

He didn't have any money. He didn't have anywhere else to go. Everybody around here knew who he was, the moody teenager with the bronze trophy in every competition he entered. Grown up into a moody adult with nothing to his name but a broken-up gang.

He missed the grunts. Things were easy with them. He missed Plumeria.

Hala was an interfering old man, and Hau was just _fake_. Everything about him put Guzma on edge. Always smiling and laughing, making jokes and acting goofy. Nobody was like that all the way down. He didn't seem real.

Dad was like that. In front of guests.

His mood ruined by that thought, he got to his feet, leaving the bedsheets in a crumpled pile. Whatever happened here, it was better than being at home.

* * *

 **Barricade**

Guzma kicked a stone and it rolled down the hill, picking up speed until it disappeared into long grass. He kicked another.

"Keep up, Guzma," Hala said without looking back.

"Why do I have to come?" he retorted. He kicked a larger rock, but it didn't budge, and he suppressed a hiss of pain.

"This is part of your training."

"The hell it is!" But still, he followed.

When they entered Hau'oli proper, Guzma fell quiet, glaring about him. Hala, too, became more alert, and together in silence they walked, both scanning the crowd for the same people.

The city was bustling, and in the corner of his eye, Hala watched Guzma sidle and twist to move between people, not making eye contact with anyone, occasionally cursing if someone bumped into him. People were generally giving him a wide berth, and his height made him easy to avoid, but it wasn't always possible. Nevertheless, he kept moving, never stopping to let someone get out of the way, but acting remarkably reserved.

He stopped once, when they reached the far west side of the town. Guzma went to turn away, and Hala reached out an arm to bar his progress.

"What? You trying to make me go back?" Suddenly he was back, shoulders straightening, arms coming out to gesture aggressively. "You can't handle me after all, huh?"

"That's not why we're here," he replied calmly.

"Well I don't care! I'm not going back." He pushed past Hala, at that moment colliding with a boy who had been about to slip past him, who crashed into his chest. "Hey!" Guzma shoved the boy's shoulder. "Get out of the way, bug!"

"Guzma!" Hala's hand shot out, grabbing the arm before it could shove again, leveraging it behind Guzma's back away from the boy, who ran off.

Guzma shook him off angrily, turning on him again, face flushed with anger. "Get your hands off me! I'm not your student!"

"I am not sending you home," Hala said. Guzma flinched at his sharp tone. "As my _student_ , your place is with me until I'm satisfied you've learned how to be a real trainer."

Guzma didn't reply, hand clenched around a fistful of jacket. Hala scrutinised him for a moment, and then relaxed. He turned away, beginning to walk south. "Come on, we'll be late."

* * *

 **Captain**

The house was a large U-shape opening onto the street, with a sparkling pool off to the side that was rippling in the cool sea breeze. Guzma didn't trust fancy houses, and especially because he knew this one. He pulled up his jacket collar and set his jaw moments before Ilima opened the door.

"Uncle," the young captain said with a warm smile. "And Guzma, too," he added, unsuccessfully trying to make eye contact. "Come in."

Hala stepped forwards, pausing to gesture for Guzma to follow, somehow sensing he would sneak away given the first opportunity.

As the door was closed behind him, Guzma felt his teeth press together. The inside was even worse than the outside: tidy and excruciatingly clean, with several family members going about their day. Ilima took them upstairs to his room, also very neat and full to the brim with expensive-looking records and books. He stopped at the table, whereupon he indicated a map of the city weighted down by a Pokéball. "I've highlighted the particular problem areas," he explained as Hala pored over the map. "Smeargle has done his best, but even where he struggles shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Or for Guzma," Hala agreed.

"Indeed," Ilima replied, only sounding slightly surprised. He looked up to see Guzma was standing off to the side, arms folded, pretending not to notice he was standing right next to Ilima's trophy collection.

"I'll take you around the grass that needs managing," Ilima decided. "Rather than boring you with maps."

The neat, fenced-off grass areas seemed not to need any attention at all. Guzma wondered if it had been Hala's excuse to get him out of the house. Hala set about matter-of-factly weeding and neatening the area, as Ilima's Smeargle began touching up the fence's paint. Ilima took Guzma to the other side and explained what needed to be done.

"The wild Pokémon here are weak, but numerous. The population is starting to get out of control, so I made plans to offload some of the pressure into other areas. To do that, I need them weakened, so they don't cause trouble while being moved over."

 _Why can't you be like him?_

Guzma grimaced at the memory and shook his head. "Whatever."

Ilima smiled, moving to clap him on the shoulder, but Guzma shook him off and stepped away. Ilima let his hand drop apologetically. "Sorry," he said. "It must be awkward to take directions from someone younger than you."

Guzma glared at him. They both knew that was only a small scrap of the whole issue.

"I'll be over there with Smeargle." Ilima tactfully retreated, leaving Guzma to throw himself into beating down the wild Pokémon.

"Good job," Hala declared, as Ilima closed the gate. "Herding is easier with strong Pokémon."

Guzma puffed his chest out proudly. "I'm the strongest there is."

Hala merely inclined his head. "Strength is not everything. You must be respectful, considerate and brave."

The memory of a Pokémon's high-singing cry hit Guzma unexpectedly; the overwhelming feeling of fear. He shook his head hard to get it out. "I'm brave," he asserted.

Hala smirked. Ilima covered his mouth with a hand.

"What?" he said, moving up towards the younger captain and raising his voice. "Are you laughing at me? You think you're stronger than me?"

Ilima backed up gracefully. "No, I know I'm not," he admitted immediately, without a shred of embarrassment. "I know my limits."

For a moment, Guzma was stunned by the offhand admission. How could you admit, so casually, that you were weak? Did Ilima really think...?

There was a moment of uneasy silence.

"Why don't you go ahead?" Hala said at last. "I have a few other things to discuss with Ilima."

Shooting one last glare at Ilima, Guzma muttered, "Whatever," and strode away.

Hala and Ilima watched him go without speaking, until he was a distant shadow in the clear night. Then Ilima said, "I wasn't expecting to see him again."

"Hm. He went to Ula'ula."

Ilima glanced at him sharply, but his voice remained neutral. "I see."

"Do you see his parents often?"

"No. Not since he ran away." Ilima hesitated, then sighed. "I still feel a little responsible for that."

Hala laughed sadly, and patted him on the back. "You did nothing wrong. If anyone is at fault, it's me. And I'm making up for that now."

* * *

 **Challenge**

His father had come with him, which only increased the pressure. His heart in his mouth, Guzma watched as the rival Pokémon delivered its last crushing blow.

"Victory, Makana!"

The two trainers shook hands, and Guzma watched enviously as the other boy left to collect his trophy. He wandered back to where his father was waiting, smiling shyly at the people who congratulated him.

The smile faded when he reached his father, whose lips were pressed tightly. He grabbed his son's hand and started towing him back home without a word. Guzma hurried to keep up with his father's longer strides, still holding his fainted Pokémon's ball in one hand. He'd have to go to the Centre later. And then he'd have to get stronger, so next time she didn't faint at all.

His father pulled him through the door and his mother emerged from the bedroom, beaming. "Welcome back," she called cheerfully. "How did he do?"

"I came fourth!" he replied, feeling her enthusiasm lift his spirits.

"Well done!" she returned, clapping her hands. He smiled, seeing her genuine pride light up her face.

"Don't encourage him," his father cut in, causing an immediate end to the joviality. "He didn't even place. He needs to work harder."

"I will, dad, I swear," he promised eagerly. "I'll do better next time."

He tried to smile as his father stared down at him.

"You looked weak today," he stated eventually, enunciation sharp. "It was an embarrassment. Don't do it again."

Guzma blinked, and then dropped his gaze. "Okay."

Drenched in rain, face etched with a scowl, Guzma shouldered the door out of his way and stepped into the warmth of his living room. "I'm back," he announced.

"Good afternoon!" his mother replied, dropping what she was doing and coming over. "Oh dear, look at you! Go and have a bath. I'll make you cocoa, alright?"

"Thanks," he muttered, looking past her to his father, who was chopping vegetables in the kitchen. He crossed the living room to the bathroom door.

"Wait," his father called, making him stop in his tracks and turn. "Don't you have anything to say?"

Reluctantly, Guzma pulled the trophy from his bag and put it on the counter.

There was a long silence.

"Again?" his father said eventually with a sigh. "What is wrong with you? Aren't you improving at all?"

"I am!" he replied defensively. "We're working really hard. The other day we—"

"I don't want your excuses," his father interrupted. "This is getting pathetic, Guzma. Clean up your act."

Guzma snatched the trophy back and walked away.

Hala patted him on the shoulder as he passed. "You did well today," he said.

Guzma turned his head, but he was already gone, moving on to Ilima. This boy he embraced, slapping him on the back, and then held him at arm's length and said something in a low voice, thrumming with pride.

Guzma felt the familiar sting of his nails digging into his hands, clenched so tightly into his fists they were gouging marks in his palms. One day he'd probably have scars there. As he watched Hala and Ilima celebrate, Ilima's family gathering around him, the trophy in his hand, reflecting the sunlight, everybody smiling, laughing and hugging, Guzma felt himself disappearing. He turned around and walked away. Despite himself, he picked up the trophy as he left.

He listened, but nobody called out to say goodbye. Even Hala was too busy celebrating his favourite, and the other students were sucking up to him, fawning over him like he was the coolest person in the world.

One foot in front of the other. Up the hill, past the green where the Pokémon were always scrapping and eager. His house loomed, the steps, the swing in the garden like he was still six. Before he opened the door he took a deep breath, smoothed his hair. Straightened his shirt. Held the trophy in front of him like a shield.

"I'm home."

"Welcome back!" called his mother from the kitchen.

Guzma's father didn't greet him. He looked up from his book, took in his son with a surgical glance, and then returned his gaze to his current page with only a faint ' _hmph_ ' in acknowledgement.

His hand tightened on the silver trophy, and his heart sank. He knew that look. _Not good enough_.

He strode past without another word and slammed the door to his room behind him.

* * *

 **White Out**

The breeze rustled in the trees, but there was otherwise total silence. The sun streamed down from a cloudless sky, making everything seem bright and glorious. The podium was set up on the marina, the sea sparkling cerulean behind it, a glittering backdrop to the boy speaking to the crowd.

"This duty," Ilima began, "is one I have aspired to carry for many years. In admiration of our kahuna," he smiled in Hala's direction, "and from love of Pokémon, I hoped not only to establish a trial, but also to help the Pokémon in our city. I hope to excel not just in battling, as I seem to have done so far," he smiled modestly, "but in guiding new trainers, maintaining our local wildlife, and helping my city to flourish."

The crowd cheered.

"Thank you," the boy finished earnestly, and bowed. He stepped down from the makeshift stage to clapping, and the small audience began to break up. Guzma watched as his father made his confident way through the gathering to congratulate Ilima personally, followed instinctively by his mother. He trailed after them, unnoticed.

"My boy could learn a thing or two from you," his father was saying. "He's so busy roughhousing, he never pays attention to his studies."

Ilima smiled uncertainly. "Thank you, sir. Guzma has taught me a few things himself."

His father laughed. "I hope not!"

Then Ilima's attention was caught by one of the schoolteachers, and his father turned away. He caught Guzma's eye as he did so, his expression going cold. Guzma scowled, but looked away.

He offered Guzma's mother his arm, and they led the way back home, chatting as their son dawdled behind. "You could always tell he was captain material," his mother was saying happily. "Such a nice boy. And so young!"

"He's a real trainer alright," his father agreed. "Strong, but disciplined."

Guzma rolled his eyes behind their backs. _Discipline, discipline, is there anything else in that dusty head of yours, old man?_

Unspeaking, he followed them into the house.

"Guzma," his father said as soon as the door was closed.

He froze, halfway to putting his shoes down. Slowly, he straightened. Waited.

His father's brow was heavy as he fixed his son with a stern gaze. "It's been three years since your trial. Today simply proves it. You've been passed over."

He knew that already.

"Ilima has what you lack. Manners. Responsibility. _Discipline_. He's everything you're not. That's why he succeeds."

He knew that, too.

His father sighed. "It's time to stop deluding yourself. You're never going to become a captain."

He...

His head started swimming.

"Hala has made his opinion of you clear. He views you as a disappointment."

Was that true? His heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear himself think. _Hala hates me?_

His father continued, calm, measured, unstoppable. "You're reckless. Careless. You don't even have any friends. Even Kukui has a better chance than you."

 _Kukui? You hate Kukui_.

"You will give up on this childish dream. Start focusing on your schoolwork."

 _You were the one who wanted me to do this._

He couldn't breathe.

"You humiliated me today. I had to stand there amongst our neighbours and watch a boy two years younger than you take the position you've been trying for since you were sixteen." His father's voice was rising. "You're pathetic, Guzma. An overgrown child begging to be noticed for mediocrity."

Guzma moved backwards as his father advanced. He'd been the taller of the two for years now, but something about the words and the disgusted expression on his father's face made him feel six again.

"You've failed to become a captain. You're barely even a trainer. It's time for you to quit."

His back was against the door. He was wound up like a spring, ready for whichever of his father's hands came out first.

"Well, Guzma? Answer me!"

For a long moment, he could barely process the words. He forced his distant mouth into a response. "Yes, sir."

"Give me your Pokémon."

 _No._

The word clammed up in his mouth. He shivered violently, but held his tongue.

"Guzma." His father held out one large hand, his brown eyes like drills, his expression edging into anger. "Give them to me."

Guzma shook his head desperately.

The hand lashed out, pushing him back against the door as with the other his father searched his pockets, pulling out the six occupied Pokéballs in turn and tossing them onto the floor behind him. "You don't deserve these," he was saying, as Guzma struggled unsuccessfully. "You never did. I wasted all that time on this ridiculous hobby and _nothing_ came of it."

Guzma watched the balls bouncing and rolling over the wooden floorboards. _Gyrados. Bewear. Snorunt. Tsareena. Graveler._

With a triumphant grunt, his father let him go, his hand around the last one. Guzma's eyes widened.

 _Incineroar._

His first Pokémon.

"Don't," he pleaded.

"Quiet!"

He jumped and clenched his jaw shut.

"I'm putting these away," his father declared. "You are no longer a Pokémon trainer. Is that clear?"

He felt his breathing pick up, anger bubbling up in him. Not for him, but for them, for the friends he'd raised and travelled with, and his father wanted to lock them away forever. "Leave them alone!" he shouted back, "You can't take them from me, they're mine!"

"Not anymore," his father raised his voice to match. "They're a waste of time."

"You can't do this!" He leapt forwards, reaching for Incineroar where the ball was still in his father's hand, but it was jerked out of reach. Before he could react, a blinding pain sent him flying back against the door.

"While you are under my roof, my word is law!" his father bellowed, his fist so tight around the Pokéball that his knuckles were white. "This," he gestured with the ball, "is mine."

He strode across the room and placed the six balls on the top shelf of the cabinet. Desperately, Guzma charged, but it was too late. His father's hand was on the handle of a golf club, and he turned to meet him.

Everything after that was pain.

* * *

 **Starter**

Akala was familiar, though it had been years since he'd travelled. Without Pokémon, the routes he could take were limited, but he also didn't want to be in the city. He walked north, stopping in at a Pokémon Centre cafe for food, and eventually he had walked the length of the island and had stopped at its northern beach. It was a clear, warm day and sunset was only just beginning, so he sat on the sand and tried to clear his head.

 _While you are under my roof, my word is law!_

But he wasn't. He tilted his head back, looking at the cloudless sky. His father had locked him in his bedroom for the night, and he'd smashed up his room in anger, including the window. With nothing left to lose, he'd patched himself up, stuffed his pockets with change, and made his getaway at dawn. Running full-tilt down the hill to the marina, he'd jumped on the first ferry of the day. Now, he was alone. He was free.

In a small crack in the rocks on the Route 8 beach, buried some way back into the cliff, was a small, timid creature. It was just over a foot long, with a silver carapace that reflected the thin shaft light of that was shed on its hiding spot. It did not move, its yellow eyes fixed on the figure sitting on the beach.

Guzma stayed like that, watching the sky change colour, until his neck hurt. He wasn't really paying attention to the pain, thinking more about what he was doing. He would run out of money soon, even if he sold his trainer supplies. He was old enough to find a job, but what about a place to live? And he didn't want to work, anyway. He was a trainer. If he wasn't going to do that, he might as well have stayed at home.

 _Pathetic. A trainer with no Pokémon._

He sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd done this. The whole reason he'd jumped on the chance to do the Island Challenge was for this, the escape. It hadn't lasted. It never lasted.

He'd probably go crawling home again tomorrow.

The figure wasn't moving. Wimpod crept out from his crevice and slowly made his way across the beach, sniffing all the while. Still no movement from the figure. Wimpod kept going, right up until he bumped into something soft in the sand.

Guzma turned his head in surprise when something touched his hand, and then leapt to his feet in surprise, sending it scurrying away again. "Aagh!"

It was gone just as quickly, and he caught his breath, glancing around to reassure himself that nobody had seen him. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath. "Just a Wimpod."

A wild Pokémon could be dangerous, a fact that was drilled into all children, but a Wimpod? Hardly. The things were little cowards, and besides, Guzma was pretty sure he could take any Pokémon he'd find around here. You didn't train up a Bewear by being scared of a little rough and tumble.

Not that he had a Bewear, anymore.

Angrily putting the thought from his mind, he brushed down his jeans and sat back down. The sound of the sea was soothing, and there was nowhere better to be.

The danger seemed to be gone. Everything was quiet again. The scary figure had stopped being scary.

Wimpod scuttled out, a little more confident. He had gone out to this figure before, and hadn't been hurt! He'd even touched it!

The figure moved a little bit, and Wimpod froze, poised and trembling, ready to spew his natural defence mechanisms if the danger approached.

After several seconds, he relaxed again. There was no more movement. He continued creeping forwards.

Guzma stayed as still as possible and watched as the Pokémon approached. He recognised its twitchy movements as those of caution, fear even. He slapped a hand down for fun and watched the Wimpod turn tail and speed back to safety. And yet, not two minutes later, it was sneaking towards him again. Scared, but tenacious.

A memory of his Litten came to him unbidden, sniffing cautiously at his hand when they'd first met. His eyes filled with tears and he shook his head violently, pushing the grief back down. Wimpod fled immediately, and he sighed.

It took longer, this time, but he came back. Guzma held his breath as it worked its way slowly right up to his hand beside him, touching its purple snout gently to his skin.

It didn't _smell_ dangerous. It smelled like a human, which made sense! Humans were big and noisy, and sometimes dangerous, but usually not. Other Pokémon attacked the humans, and the humans fought back with more Pokémon.

The Wimpod on the Route 8 beach was not a brave one like those Pokémon. He sat next to Guzma's hand and slowly started to get comfortable. Guzma didn't move a muscle, not even to turn his head and look at the sunset. Any movement risked scaring the Wimpod away again, and without really knowing why, he didn't want to do that.

Only once did he try to move, very slowly, by extending a finger from the hand. It touched to Wimpod's side. The silver plating was surprisingly cool to the touch.

The Wimpod tensed, but didn't run. When Guzma moved no further, it settled down again.

For the first time since Ilima's speech, Guzma felt himself smiling.


	2. Part 2

**Flower**

"How did it start?"

In some ways it was the most obvious question, but Hala figured the answer – the _story_ , most likely – would give him plenty more subtle ones to ask. For now he needed the basics. Guzma had been his odd house guest for a fortnight, and while they had settled into a kind of routine, he was still angry and unsociable. He didn't get along with Hau, and when Hala dragged him out around the island, he didn't talk or help. When people spoke to him, he shouted back. If they were friendly, he put on his intimidating act, just as he'd done in front of Ilima.

Hala had made it clear that day: he would never be intimidated by Guzma, and he could even physically restrain him if necessary. Since then, his outbursts had lessened, and he was more careful. It was saddening, but effective. A start.

Now, Guzma sat on the opposite sofa, arms crossed, glaring at the table. He was still wearing his old Team Skull jacket, though the skull was painted out. Sentiment or practicality?

"How old were you, then?"

He shrugged jerkily. "When what?"

"When you formed Team Skull."

Guzma gave him a derisive look. "I didn't."

Hala waited, keeping the calm smile on his face. Eventually, Guzma heaved a theatrical sigh and offered, "It was that kahuna. They were her fans. After she disappeared, they latched onto us instead."

Hala had heard the story of the old Ula'ula kahuna; he'd even met her, once or twice. Much like the current one, she hadn't been interested in appointing captains, and nobody went ahead and appointed themselves as Acerola had. Instead, she simply battled everyone who came to challenge her. Unlike the other kahunas, she never held back. Her full team went out, every time.

He pursed his lips. "You said 'us'. Who was that?"

"Plumeria. Me and her were the older ones. The strongest ones."

"And the gang formed itself? The logo, the signs, everything?"

"I don't know! It just... _happened_. One day one of the kids gives me this gold necklace, 'cuz of the trophy thing, and then the next they're drawing it everywhere. Started calling it a team. Said they wanted me to be boss." Despite his annoyance at Hala's questioning, he found himself smiling. "Big bad Guzma who could scare everyone away."

"And what did Plumeria do?"

Guzma's grin dropped away, brow creasing as he thought. "She was different. Smart. She wanted more."

"How so?"

"I don't know." He gave a long pause. Then, quieter than Hala had ever heard him speak, he said, "She always had this Poisonium Z. Couldn't use it. Too old for the trials. But she kept it, said it was important. For the future."

 _Interesting._ Hala might have to see about getting the girl a Z-Ring. "Did you think about the future?"

Guzma scoffed. "No point. I had everything I needed."

* * *

 **Poison**

The house loomed even beyond the town's wall. It was a weird place, enclosed, all centralised around that mansion. The grunts lined themselves up in two neat rows, five apiece, and waited. Every one of them was tensed up and ready. Guzma could sense their restlessness, felt it jangling in his own nerves. They had been sleeping rough for too long. If Team Skull was going to be a _thing_ , they needed a base. Somewhere to claim as theirs, where others could find them.

He was at the front, with Plumeria. There was enough distance between them and the others that he could lean over and mutter, "You sure about this?"

Her stare didn't waver from the house. All of them had been looking around, observing as people took shelter in their houses, locked their doors, pulled their curtains at the sight of so many teenagers in gang getup. Not Plumeria. Her eyes were focused, intense, glaring at the mansion as if she could burn it to the ground.

Hell, if that was what she wanted, Guzma would do it.

"I'm sure," she replied. Her fists were tight, posture rigid, but he could see her breathing steadily. No panic attacks today.

After one last hesitation, she took a step, and Guzma matched it. Behind them, the grunts fell into line, chattering and joking, building themselves up for the mess they were about to make. Plumeria set a steady, slow pace, and by the time they reached the doors the kids were bouncing off each other in excitement, whooping and making up their dumb rhymes about their strength, their coolness, and most of all, how they were fearsome, and Guzma most of all. Nobody messed with the boss.

Guzma let Golisopod out, which elicited a few more shrieks of anticipation. It distracted them from Plumeria opening the door.

"Spread out," Guzma hollered once they started filtering in. "Find the food, and the bedrooms. This is our place now, ya hear? This is Team Skull's base! I wanna see some mess! I wanna see some destruction!"

Cheers and raucous laughter from the gang, who took doors at random into the house, pulling paintings off the walls, knocking over furniture, and making enough of a racket that whoever was in would know they were here. Guzma and Plumeria stood in the hall until they had all gone. He waited, and she led the way.

She took him up the stairs to a wide circular landing, and straight into what looked like the master bedroom. The door was shut, but she glanced at him, and he kicked it open for her. That left him at the front to see a well-dressed couple in their late fifties cowering on the opposite side of the room.

The words came to him without thinking. "What are you doing in my room?" he demanded at the top of his lungs. He swaggered forwards, Golisopod at his shoulder, and the couple drew back, eyes on the Pokémon. Golisopod wasn't going to attack them – Guzma would much rather do that himself – but it didn't hurt to have the backup.

"Didn't ya hear me?" he shouted once he was closer, widening his eyes. "This is my room now! Get out or I'll make you!"

"W-Who are you?" the man demanded, with a protective arm around his wife's shoulder.

"We're Team Skull, old man. We take what we want! You wanna fight me?" He pushed forwards, raising his arms invitingly. "Huh?"

"That's enough, Guzma," Plumeria said, from the doorway. His blood itched to hit them, especially the whimpering lady, but he moved back. This was her show. She walked forwards with that casual poise she had, placed a hand on her hip, and said in a tone of clearest ice, "This is my house now."

"Plumeria?" the lady gasped, squinting. "Is that you under there? What is all this?"

"I'm taking the house."

"You can't just _take_ —" the man began to object, but clammed up when Guzma lunged forwards again. Plumeria waved him back insistently, and he ground his teeth, but stopped. He folded his arms and watched, eyes narrowed, daring him to object again.

The lady kept going. "We raised you and you left us, and now you come back demanding the _house_? This house would have been yours if you'd acted at all like you wanted it. Why now? Why like this? Is this how you thank us?"

Plumeria's stare was withering. "It's the thanks you deserve."

She turned on that, and left. Guzma grinned, moving forwards again even as they carried on protesting. "Come on, granny!" he yelled, leaning to say it almost directly into her face. "You heard the lady, get out of here!"

Self-righteous they may have been, but physical threat was something else entirely. Plumeria had always made clear that they'd never hit or intimidated her, so there was no fight to be had. Just two old, horrible people who deserved anything they got.

"If I see you here again I'll crush you!" he shouted after them as they hurried down the stairs. As they went out of sight, he heard the gratifying sounds of his grunts calling insults and taunts to them as they exited the property.

He walked back out onto the landing and found Plumeria at the doorway of another room. Neat and tidy, with a well-made bed, a couple of dolls...

"A little girl's room," she supplied when she noticed him. "For a little angel."

He snorted. "Wanna trash it?"

She took a deep breath, still frowning. He hardly ever saw her without that frown. "No," she decided. "No, I think I'll make it _mine_."

It didn't make sense to him, but it didn't have to. She knew what she was doing. He shrugged, and made for the door. She held out her hand, and he slapped it. It was the closest she ever came to thanking him.

* * *

 **Po Town**

The walls were still foreboding. Even more so now that they weren't _his_.

"Wooooow..."

Guzma clenched his teeth.

"Sure is miserable here!"

He kept putting one foot in front of the other. Through the gates, past the captain's barricade they'd stolen from Acerola. He always had to smile – inwardly, of course – when he passed that. The grunts were so proud to have hauled it back from the beach.

The house loomed again, windows dark, lawn overgrown.

"I can't believe you lived there!"

"Would you _shut up_?" he finally snapped, turning on the offender. She grinned back at him, completely unperturbed, and continued skipping towards the house.

"Why is she here?" he demanded next, of Hala.

Hala glanced over his shoulder, entirely unsympathetic. "She offered her help. Why would I turn it down?"

"Because I don't need help," he retorted.

"Hey!" Acerola turned, placing her hands on her hips. "My uncle spent months keeping you guys in check! Without him you would've gotten into even more trouble!"

"Nobody asked him to get involved!"

"Well, if he wasn't, I wouldn't be here offering places to your grunts. So there!"

With that, she flounced away to check the Pokémon Centre. Relieved, Guzma carried on with just Hala. They didn't speak as they entered the Shady House, as it was known to the rest of Ula'ula.

It smelled of dust and damp. Some of the windows had been left open, and the rain had blown inside, rotting the carpet. In the dark, Hala moved slowly, cautiously. Guzma easily left him behind, navigating the still-familiar halls with no need of light.

He went to Plumeria's room first. The house would never look like this if she was still here, but it was worth checking anyway.

The door was open, and the room was empty. He flicked on the light, seeing the blankets had been stripped from the bed. The dolls, makeup, and her other belongings were still there. He glanced over his shoulder, and then opened a little gilded box on her shelf.

Her Poisonium Z-Crystal was gone.

He sighed, and turned around to find his room, leaving footprints on the dusty plush carpet. He left Plumeria's light on, casting a pale glow and long shadows up the stairs with him. He reached the top landing and circled around to what had once been his door. The debris blocking it off had been cleared up.

There was a light on inside. He paused outside, listening. The sound of quiet conversation. He considered knocking, but hey, it was supposed to be his room. He pushed it with a foot – not quite kicking it open, but also not needing to, since he'd busted the catch making an impression on Plumeria's parents.

He barely had time to take in the three grunts bundled in blankets on the floor when they jumped up, throwing themselves at him in tackle-hugs that send him staggering back against the wall. "Guzma!"

"Hands off!" he shouted, and they dropped back, faces bright with excitement. "What are you doing here?"

He looked between them. He remembered them now: Daisy, Noni and Pepper. The room smelled of sweat and old food, and though the lights were on and the windows were shut, it was chilly. The three of them looked significantly worse for wear: Daisy's hair was tangled at the ends, Pepper's tank top had a big hole showing his stomach, and Noni's hair dye was showing roots. Not that Guzma really understood why they'd all gotten matching hair.

It was Daisy who spoke first, always the loud one of the trio. "We were waiting for you, of course! This is Team Skull's base!" She stamped her foot for emphasis, while the other two added their agreement via the gang hand signs.

"We knew you'd come back, boss!" Pepper added.

"Weren't you listening before?" he demanded, voice rising to hide how touched he was. "Team Skull is over! I'm not your boss anymore. So you can get out of here!"

"No way!" Daisy insisted. "Team Skull for life!"

"You'll always be our boss!" Pepper agreed. "Big bad Guzma!"

He was about to respond when footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned to see Hala entering view. "Guzma, are you alright?" he asked, taking in the three teenagers.

"Aaah!" Noni roared, grabbing a Pokéball. He threw it, and Guzma caught it before it could open.

"Calm down!" he yelled. "He's with me. Listen, the team is done! We don't have money anymore; the others have already quit! Stay here if you like but there's! No! _Point!_ "

Silence.

Very, very quietly, Daisy began to cry.

Guzma swore fluently, but only inside his head. Aloud, he said, "Don't look at me like that! You couldn't tag along with me forever!"

"I won't quit!" Pepper declared. "We're a team, we'll always be a team!" Noni grabbed his arm, and he returned the grip. "Where else are we gonna go?" he added. "You can't leave us behind, boss!"

 _Damn it all_. Guzma grabbed Pepper's shirt and pulled him up to say into his face: "Did I say I was going to?!"

Pepper blinked rapidly. "No?"

"Exactly!" Guzma let him go, not noticing how Pepper blushed as he retreated. "This old man is Hala. He and Acerola have talked to some people and sorted you places to go. Daisy," he pointed at the girl to get her attention. "Quit bawling! Mallow's got you an apprenticeship at Konikoni Restaurant, so you can be a proper chef!"

Daisy's eyes widened, tears instantly forgotten.

"And you two, Acerola's still running the Aether House! You can stay there—"

"Actually, Guzma," Hala interjected. "If I may?"

"What?"

Hala straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. "If you want to stay a team," he said, nodding at Pepper, "I suggest you make it something worthwhile. You're going to come with me, since you've got nothing better to do, and I'll teach you to be proper trainers."

Pepper and Noni both looked at Guzma.

"What's that look for?" he snapped. "I'm not your boss, ya boneheads! Do what you want!"

"Guzmaaaa!" Noni cried, jumping forwards to hug Guzma with surprising speed. The other two immediately joined him, their six arms hugging tight enough that Guzma couldn't shake them off.

"Hands off!" he yelled. "Hands off, I said didn't I?"

But they didn't listen.

* * *

 **Bug**

"Well," Acerola chirped after Hala had hauled the grunts off, who were protesting at being separated from Guzma. "They're great, aren't they?"

He didn't reply, arms folded, glaring out at where the doors had shut behind the group. Why did he have to be left alone with the ghost girl?

"The Pokémon Centre is empty," she continued. "All the houses are boarded up. A few more months and I might have to move my trial here!"

He'd already had to deal with Daisy. She'd been thanking him so fast the words had gotten garbled. As if it was _him_ who had gotten her the job.

Guess he owed Hala now.

"So is there anything else you want to do here, or can we go back to Uncle's?"

He'd see Pepper and Noni again, at least. He'd meant to ask them what had happened to Plumeria.

"Guzmaaaa," she sang, waving her hands at him. "Hello?"

She'd probably left. She'd probably saved most of her money. The Aether Foundation had paid them for donating Pokémon, especially rare ones, but also for jobs. Plumeria had been leading the team that kidnapped Lillie. The best-paid job they'd had.

Daisy, Pepper and Noni had probably been stuck. Telling themselves it was loyalty, and not money, that kept them there.

Waiting for him...

He became gradually aware that Acerola was saying his name. "...ma Guzma Guzma Guzma Guzma—"

"Shut up!"

"Hi!" she grinned. "Welcome back. I was saying, is there anything else to do here? Because I'm cold."

"You're wearing a dress," he retorted, heading back into the house.

She followed him, of course. "I'm royalty, you know. It's only right that I dress well!" She giggled. "Get it? Dress?"

He didn't deem that worthy of a response. Nor did he wait for her as he began climbing the stairs again.

"This really would be a great place for a trial," she mused as she followed him, apparently having no difficulty with the dark. "And hey, a barricade is already here!" she joked. "It took me weeks to make a new one, you know that?"

He ignored her, entering his old room and beginning to search amongst the collected blankets, clothes and junk. They'd taken the bedding from every room in the house to keep warm. _Stupid. They should have just left..._

"What're we looking for?" Acerola asked, gamely starting to pull blankets off furniture. She tugged a stained sheet, revealing a large chest.

"That," he replied shortly, pushing past her and picking it up. Faint clinking sounded from inside as it tilted in his arms, before he got a good grip on it and turned to go back downstairs.

"I know that souuund!" Acerola sang, dancing ahead of him and turning to waggle her finger. "That's the sound of Z-Crystals! You were an Island Challenge Champion, Guzma? I don't remember you."

"I fought the old kahuna."

"Oh!"

She didn't speak for a long moment as he strode ahead, thumping down the stairs. He liked that he could silence people by saying that, bringing up the person who still made everyone so uncomfortable. And the implication that he'd beaten her was even better.

"Wait!" she exclaimed just as they were leaving the town, making him jump. "So is that the Buginium Z? _You_ had it the whole time?!"

So many damn questions.

"I can't believe it! We looked everywhere for that after Uncle was chosen! We thought she dumped it all in the sea just to spite us. And then when your grunts started stealing the rest we guessed it was because you _didn't_ have any. What a mean trick!"

"I'm returning it, aren't I?"

"Thank you," said a new voice, making him jump again. He wheeled around to see Nanu emerging from the shadows.

"Where did you come from?" he exclaimed.

Nanu jerked a thumb in the direction of the police station. "I live here," he said dryly. "I came to collect the Z-Crystals."

Guzma handed them over, hiding his relief. That chest was heavy.

"Good work."

He opened his mouth to retort, and then saw the remark had been directed at Acerola, who beamed. "It was nothing!"

"Hey!" he cut in. "I did all the work!"

Nanu shot him a dismissive glance. "You undid your mistakes."

He opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came.

This _had_ been his fault, after all.

* * *

 **Kahuna**

Wimpod was tucked into his shirt, head poking out from under his collar, watching the world go by from his safe place. Guzma could tell he was nervous. His whiskers twitched unhappily and his body was coiled tight, ready to run. Or, more likely, ready to drop down and crawl around to Guzma's back, where he felt safest.

He pushed on, inching around the tall grass and finally breaking through to the village.

It was a cute little place, nothing like back home. The kahuna's house was the first thing to greet arrivals, but he passed it and went for the Pokémon Centre. He approached the counter, waiting in line after a ten-year-old who had skinned knees and tousled hair, who was handing over six standard balls to the nurse.

"You're working really hard today!" she commented brightly as she put them in the machine.

"They're doing their best, miss," the kid said. "I'm sure we'll be able to beat her eventually."

The nurse smiled, but the creases around her eyes told Guzma she didn't agree. She handed back the balls and assured the kid that they could come back anytime.

Guzma nudged Wimpod into his ball and handed it over. She gave him her sunny smile. "Welcome to Tapu Village."

Wimpod was done in a moment. He hadn't been seriously hurt, really, but Guzma couldn't be too careful. He'd still not beaten any trainers. One Pokéball had been as much as he'd been able to afford, after food and the occasional place to sleep.

As she handed the ball back, he plucked up the courage to ask, "Is the kahuna here still the bug lady?"

Her smile tightened, like people's usually did when he spoke to them. "Yes, she is. Her name is Canna."

He released Wimpod again and pocketed the ball. He left before she could ask the question people always asked about Canna: _you're not going to fight her, are you?_

He knocked on the door of the kahuna's house. A tall, pink-haired girl opened it, and gave him a critical look. "You're a bit old for the trial, aren't you?"

"Who the hell are you?"

She nudged the door further back with a toe, leaning against the wall. "I'm Plumeria. Who are you?"

"Where's Canna?"

"Fighting some kid. You here to challenge her?" She was looking at Wimpod's big, timid eyes poking from his shirt collar, the faint play of a smirk around her mouth.

"I already beat her," he said, pushing past her into the hall.

Her eyes turned to him properly this time, and she followed him. "For real?"

"I did the challenge like everyone else."

They reached a door. She shouldered ahead of him before he could open it. "Don't run your mouth about that here," she warned him. Her gaze was deadly serious. "Not everyone finishes it."

She opened the door. Guzma saw a large room that had perhaps once been a lounge, now gutted of furniture and bearing the marks of countless battles. There were a dozen kids packed inside, ranging from Challenge age to almost as old as Guzma, all wearing matching green-grey T-shirts and cheering as Canna stood in the middle of the room, on one side of the area marked for battle, laughing at her Ribombee as it flattened a woefully unprepared Raticate.

The kid from the Pokémon centre was there, and though he put on a brave face, tears were clearly in his eyes as he made his way out of the room, sliding past Guzma without looking up. For a stark moment, Guzma thought of bronze trophies.

Then the kahuna's eyes were on him, analytical, sizing up his potential challenge. "Who's this?" she asked. Plumeria only shrugged.

Guzma locked eyes with her.

It had been years, but she looked the same. Young for a kahuna, and full of the pride a position would bring. Her belt was lined with her Pokémon, slung over her hips above dark green shorts. She wore a khaki tank top and had tattoos on both shoulders: one Beautifly, one Beedrill. Her eyes were green and hard and narrow as she looked him up and down. Then her lips curved in a smile. "I remember you," she said.

The room was still uncomfortably packed with kids, and Guzma was aware of dozens of eyes on him. He fought to keep his face on. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She moved closer, scrutinising his face. "You're one of the champs. I remember your hair. Incineroar, wasn't it?"

He nodded.

"I remember. It was a good fight. What are you doing back here, kitten boy? Where's your team?"

Wimpod chose that moment to sneak a peek out of Guzma's shirt. Canna's eyes widened, and she burst into a high, bubbling, laugh.

"Is that all you got?" she said. "A little Wimpod? How'd you get all the way out here with that?"

Guzma pushed Wimpod back down, but he did it gently. "I beat you with my team, when I was a kid," he said. "Now, no team, but I'm still strong. You got any captains?"

"Don't need any," she said, tossing her hair. It was a sharp black bob that flicked out perfectly with the practised movement. "Especially not one with a single baby on it. You turn that wimp into a Golisopod and we'll talk."

But her eyes went back to him after turning away, and he knew she was interested. She remembered. Only a handful of kids beat her every year. Like Plumeria had implied, those who failed got stuck on Ula'ula for a reason. It was her that they failed to.

The room was full of them. Many of them, he noticed, were looking at him with respect.

It felt good. Wimpod felt his heart beating faster, and twitched, getting ready for battle.

"Who wants to have a go against this champ?" Canna invited the room. "Anyone think they can beat kitten boy and his struggle bug?"

This was a language he understood. He grinned, waiting for the first kid to take him on.

A boy stepped forwards from the crowd, as it widened to give the battle arena room. "One on one," Canna declared. "Pick yours, squirt."

"My name's Koa," the kid announced, looking at Canna. Guzma recognised that look: he was trying to impress her. "I pick Charjabug."

Mutters and _ooh_ sounds fluttered around the room.

The boy rubbed the Pokéball twice before opening it. He was trying to put on a cool look, standing with his hands in his pockets, but his shoulders were tense. Guzma was twice his height. He nudged Wimpod forwards, who reluctantly skittered down his leg and took position.

This was stupid. He couldn't expect to win against that type matchup.

No. No, he _would_ win. He was stronger than all of these kids, because he'd beaten _her_. And sure, he didn't have his friends anymore, but he had Wimpod, and the two of them could take on the world.

* * *

 **Tapu**

It was the first and only time he heard Plumeria raise her voice. She screamed.

"Tapu!"

Guzma was awake instantly. He recognised her voice. He recognised fear. If it was the tapu she was afraid of, something big was happening.

As he rolled out of bed and pulled his T-shirt on, he heard the kids banging at Canna's bedroom door, wailing her name. He filled his pockets and burst out, running straight into Taro, who had been about to knock for him. "What?" he said, raising his voice to be heard above the crying.

Taro was thirteen. His eyes were wide and his face was white. "It's attacking," he croaked. His voice had started breaking two days ago, but more than that, it was terror. "It's attacking the village."

Guzma had decided never to swear around the kids. He swore. He pushed his way through the crowd begging for Canna and kicked down her door.

He didn't see her immediately. Her curtains were drawn. Her room was a mess. There were clothes and papers everywhere, but amongst that, trash. Almost as much trash as there was anything else. Guzma had never been in her room before and he could see why she didn't want anyone in there. It was like seeing her naked.

Worse still was when he found her in the dark. She was a lump in the bedspread, her pale face moonlike amongst the blankets. "Guzma?" she whispered.

Guzma looked behind him. Plumeria was already there, waving back the kids. "Get out of the village," she instructed them. "Go in pairs or threes. No, I don't care—no, shut up. Listen to me. You can come back when it's over. Stay _away_ from the Megamart."

He moved closer to Canna on the bed. Words jammed his mouth, too many, accusatory, upset, furious, and afraid. "What are you doing?" he asked eventually.

Her voice was hoarse with terror. "It's my fault."

"What?"

"I told them it was okay."

She stared down at the bed. Guzma felt a surge of rage, at her, at her room, at her pathetic shape under the blankets. This was the woman he'd looked up to for so many years, the women he'd modelled his new team after, and she was hiding in bed because she'd screwed up and couldn't face the consequences.

She was supposed to be strong.

"The Thrifty Megamart," Plumeria filled in from the doorway. "They asked you if Tapu Bulu would be alright with it being built so close to the mountain."

There was a distant crash. Canna flinched. Guzma heard a sob.

Realisation was long and slow and sick.

"You didn't go, did you?" Plumeria said, echoing his own thoughts. "You haven't been in months." Her voice climbed in pitch, stretched like a rubber band. "You couldn't be bothered, because you had to go through the desert to get to the ruins so you didn't go and how he's attacking the village—"

"We have to go!" Guzma cut in, snatching the blankets from Canna's bed. She jerked in surprise, and he pulled her arm. "Come on!"

She resisted, but he was stronger than her. He pulled her to her feet and dragged her from the room. Plumeria fell back, checking every room to make sure nobody had been left behind, while Guzma led Canna downstairs and to the door.

She was pale and trembling. The smallest, softest spot in his heart felt sorry for her, but mostly he was annoyed. Wasn't she the kahuna? Hala would never be this weak.

Then the light, brassy sound of the tapu's bell jangled across the room.

"Plumeria!" he shouted.

"I'm coming!" she called back. He heard her footsteps on the stairs. Canna had pulled away from him into the wall, stammering unintelligibly. Guzma turned to look for Plumeria and saw her, gently guiding Noni. Of _course_ it was Noni, the youngest of the kids, unable still to tie his shoelaces or do basic sums. Guzma felt like his chest was being squeezed as he looked at the crying kid and Plumeria, so patient, her voice so calm, telling him he was going to be alright, when it wasn't.

And Canna against the wall, useless.

He opened the door.

He reached into his pocket.

It was stupid. He couldn't win this fight. This time, he knew for sure. But strangely, he wasn't afraid. As long as he could still fight, he wouldn't be afraid.

"Sorry, buddy," he murmured to the Pokéball, before he pressed the release.

Tapu Bulu stared down, eyes on fire, and Guzma stared back.

* * *

 **Team Skull**

Guzma watched from the window as Hau battled Pepper and Noni simultaneously, defeating two Pokémon with one, laughing the whole time without a care in the world.

He'd never understand that kid.

Noni, though. He had been dwelling on Canna, after explaining things to Hala, and he now understood why Noni, of all of them, had always been the most loyal. The fiercest grunt, making up the rhymes and playing around with words. When Daisy and Pepper had adopted him as their honorary little brother, his devotion to Guzma had rubbed off on them. Only those three had stayed at the house.

Noni had been the only grunt to see Guzma facing down the tapu.

Daisy's first letter had arrived yesterday. Guzma had pretended not to listen as Pepper read it out loud, Noni hanging on his every word. She was working hard. She loved the family and the city. She dedicated a full paragraph to describing the first dish they'd taught her to make. Then, Hala had helped the two boys write a letter back.

It still stung Guzma to recognise neither of them were literate. He'd taken that time from them.

Noni's frustrated yell broke him out of his thoughts. Pepper was now battling Hau alone while he ran down the hill towards the Pokémon Centre.

Not seconds later there was another yell, and Hau abandoned the battle, running after Noni. Pepper started, turned, and then ran too. Guzma looked but couldn't see what had happened. He was out of the house before he had a chance to think.

No sooner had he turned the corner did he see why Hau had run with such speed and urgency. Noni had walked into long grass.

 _Idiot!_ Guzma thought to himself, and reached for Golisopod, eyeing the distance, whether he could throw that far. But the yellow-orange flash of Hau's Raichu defused his concerns, and he stopped to watch as Pepper dragged Noni back, and Hau dealt easily with the offending Raticate.

Guzma breathed heavily. His hands were shaking. He watched the pair ascend back up the hill, Noni watching the grass, Pepper watching Noni. Their progress was gentle, unhurried. Guzma could hear Pepper promising that they would take Noni's Pokémon to the Centre together later. Words brewed in Guzma's head, the anger combining with the momentary fear and forming a string of reprimands. Neither of them had noticed him, and he opened his mouth to draw their attention with the first insult.

Hau caught up then. He slung an arm around Noni's shoulder. "That was scary, huh!" he said. "I'm glad you're okay, Noni."

Guzma's words died in his mouth. He watched as Noni turned his bright smile on Hau, his admiring smile. "Thank you!" he said. "You're really strong, Hau."

Guzma knew that smile, had been on its receiving end for years and never appreciated it. Noni had always believed that Guzma had saved him, saved all of them, and now someone else had rescued him too.

Guzma squinted, trying to figure out why he was annoyed further by this. That should have made him happy, shouldn't it? He was rid of them. They'd gotten the message. He wasn't their boss anymore. They were going to do something new. Something without bothering him.

He went back inside before any of them noticed he was there.


	3. Part 3

**Beast**

The first two jobs were simple. Stealing a book from the Malie Library. Blocking a road, scaring off whoever tried to pass. Easily done, and lucratively paid.

It was Plumeria, as always, who wanted him to push for more. She'd picked up on the hidden link between the two jobs, the dimensional research lab. There was something big involved, or Lusamine _thought_ there was, and big meant expensive.

So when she met him for the third job – again simple, tracking down a Slowpoke tail trader – he did something he hadn't done for years: asked a question to the face of authority.

"Who are you?"

She frowned, her face etched with distaste. She was sitting neatly in the chair in the motel room, her limbs drawn together like a Lurantis, hands folded in her lap as if she would be disgusted to touch anything around her. " _Must_ you know?"

"Hey, it ain't me." He raised his hands. "But it's for the team, y'know? Gotta know what the risks are." Risk wasn't really a factor Guzma usually concerned himself with; that was something Plumeria had said. It felt weird repeating it, but Lusamine didn't seem to notice.

She nodded. "Then let me put you at ease. I am the President of the Aether Foundation. There will be no trouble, I will ensure it."

Hell. That was big, even Guzma knew that.

"So what's with us?" _You're a big shot. We're just losers, you have to know that. So what's the deal?_

Lusamine pursed her lips. For a long moment she sat, scrutinising him. Then, with great care, she pronounced: "You are a very strong trainer."

Guzma froze, blindsided. _I'm strong. I'm strong. She gets it! She says I'm STRONG!_

He smiled at her for a moment, unguarded. She gave him the smallest tilting of the lips in return. She knew she'd gotten her way.

It was an unpleasant day when Hala was visited by Kukui and Burnet. Pepper and Noni were out on an errand, proving themselves as enthusiastic about their training as they had about the team. He'd even overheard them trying to come up with sumo puns. It almost made him smile. Damn kids.

However, it left him nobody to hang around with. He avoided Kukui like the plague, especially because he was chatting to Hala, and instead ended up drifting towards where the Professor was telling Hau about the Ultra Beasts on the steps to the house. He sat down on the porch at a safe distance, and tried not to look like he was listening.

"I've seen that one!" Hau exclaimed, pointing at a diagram in Burnet's file. Guzma gave it a quick glance and saw it was the girl-like jellyfish one that had possessed him. He shivered and looked away. "But what are all these?"

"These are the others," Burnet explained. "There are actually multiple types of Ultra Beast, which we believe the Aether Foundation already knew of. The data I was sent by their current administrator, Wicke, indicates they identified somewhere between five and nine types. She hopes I can find a way to send them home."

"You know, this one kind of looks like the old President," Hau remarked, pointing at a picture of a long, thin Ultra Beast in white. Guzma leaned over to look, and had to agree. "Hey, and that one looks like Lillie! I guess she did mention her mom dressed her. And—" Hau stopped suddenly, and then said brightly, "that's why she changed clothes!"

But his finger was still on a different picture, and Guzma knew what he'd been about to say.

* * *

 **Xerkitree**

"You wear the same clothes every time I see you," she declared once, surprising him. They'd already gone over the new Pokémon-selling deal and he'd been ready to leave.

He shrugged defensively. "It's all I've got."

"Hm." She pursed her lips again. "That's no good. I'm going to buy you some better clothes. More fitting ones."

When the clothes arrived, he was pretty sure he knew what she'd meant. His old ratty T-shirt and jeans were nothing compared to the slick black jacket with the Team Skull logo. It felt good to be out of the clothes he'd left home in, as well.

When he'd worn the getup in front of the grunts, they'd taken a shine to it. Over the next week they put together outfits of their own, and even found skull hairclips for Plumeria to add to her outfit. She changed her makeup to fit, too. Black and white, their colours.

Looking back, Lusamine had made them a team more than anyone else. Money, style, _purpose_. He'd never wanted the gang, but he'd enjoyed it. It had benefits. And if it meant he could prove to her that he was strong... He'd have done anything.

The Ultra Beast Hau had been about to comment on had white spikes on top, like hair. Long limbs in black and white. It looked like Guzma.

The realisation was like lead in his stomach. He'd already realised she only cared about her beasts. But with this...

She'd _never_ cared about him. He was the replacement child, to dress up and push around. He'd run away from one controlling parent and straight into a new one.

He felt sick. He pressed his nails hard into his arm, trying to focus his anger on something he could fight, but Lusamine was gone. She'd passed out in Ultra Space and he'd carried her out of it and watched her sail away to be _healed_ , and everyone hoped she'd get better and repair her mistakes and then there was him, still judged and resented for doing what she'd told him.

Stupid, stupid Guzma. Running around after the first adult to praise him. He broke the skin and began to bleed. What was wrong with him?

"Um," Hau's voice sounded distantly. "Tutu?" he called.

Hala turned, excused himself from Kukui's conversation, and approached. "Guzma," he said in a calm, level voice. "What's wrong?"

"I can't believe he's crying," Hau whispered.

That snapped him out of it. He couldn't cry in front of Hala, in front of Kukui! He jumped to his feet and strode inside, slamming the bedroom door behind him. He rubbed angrily at the bleeding marks on his arm and threw his head back against the wall, where it collided with a satisfying sting. He let out a wordless noise of frustration. Then another, louder, grabbing at his hair. Then, at the top of his lungs:

"Aughhh! Guzma, what is wrong with you?"

 _You're weak, Guzma! You're useless! Why can't you ever win, even once? What's the point of all this effort when you can't make something of yourself?_

Hala opened the door to see him pushed against the wall, pale as a sheet, teeth clenched, pulling his hair out.

 _Waste of space!_

"Guzma!" he snapped, pulling the younger man's arms away from his head. "Guzma, calm down!"

"Get off!" Guzma fought, thrashing to no avail. "Get off, old man! You don't get it!"

Hala didn't move except to widen his stance, allowing Guzma to hit him ineffectively. "It's alright," he said.

"Don't be stupid! You're lying!"

"It's alright, Guzma."

"Why aren't you angry? Why don't you _hate_ me?"

"It's okay. You're okay."

"Stupid, stupid..." but his voice cracked, and he fell silent. Slowly, he stopped struggling. The tension drained from his limbs and Hala let him down onto the nearest bed, where he sat, shoulders hunched, head hanging.

Hala sat down next to him. After a long silence, he spoke. "Now, can you tell me what that was about?"

Guzma's expression was still tight with fury, but it was directed inwards. After a long moment, he said quietly, "Okay."

* * *

 **Dawn Stone**

It started with a late night snack, and a question.

"Why do you have a Poisonium crystal?"

Plumeria lowered her grilled cheese, surprised. They were the only ones still downstairs, eating and working on battle strategies. Each grunt had their own favourite Pokémon, and they needed to be paired up so they had the best chance of winning against whoever picked a fight with them – or more likely, whomever they picked a fight with. Guzma was sitting on the countertop, dropping crumbs onto his lap, while Plumeria was at the table, eating with one hand, writing with the other.

But now she put her food down. After a moment, her pencil, too. She met his gaze. Plumeria's stare was pretty much the only one Guzma could meet without feeling uncomfortable.

"Why do you have a Dawn Stone?" she asked.

He pulled a face. "Answer the question."

"I did."

And she picked up the pencil again and started making notes on the top page.

Guzma hated it when she did this, it made him look stupid and two steps behind, but he also knew she only did it when she didn't want to explain. Thinking about it, she'd been the same way when he'd asked about her panic attacks. _Why does anyone have them?_

He'd told her about his team. The last day he'd spent at home. That was the one story they'd shared, their origins, their parents. He'd helped her get revenge on hers.

"Because I'm gonna get her back," he said aloud. Plumeria looked up. "I'm gonna get them all back. I'll go home one day. My old man will try to hit me and I'll hit him back, and then I'll get my old Pokéballs and I'll walk out again. And then I'll give Snorunt the stone."

It was almost a surprise to him as he said it. He'd never planned that, not consciously. But as he said it, he knew it had to be done. He wouldn't let them live forever trapped on top of the cabinet.

Plumeria nodded.

"But I still don't get it," he added, and a scowl creased his face.

"We all have unfinished business," she said. She moved a crumb along her plate with a fingernail. "You and your parents. Taro and his brother. Daisy and Pepper and their mom. I don't know what the others are here for, but they ran away from home for a reason. All of us did."

"To get strong."

She had taken a bite, and she shook her head as she chewed. After swallowing, she said, "That's why _you_ did it. You know I did it to be free. Be myself." She paused, pursing her lips. "That's why the Poisonium. It's like a mascot. A reminder of who I want to be."

There was a long silence. Guzma kicked his heels against the cupboard door. Plumeria had picked up her pencil and was looking at the paper again, but she wasn't writing.

 _She wants to leave_ , he realised.

That was what bothered him. The idea that she would, one day, be someone else. The implication that she couldn't do that here, with them. She couldn't stay. Not forever.

Hell, _he_ didn't want to either, did he? He wanted to go home. He wanted to face down the old man once more. The one battle he'd never won. Not to beat him down, not to prove that he was strong after all...but to reclaim what was rightfully his. He wasn't sure he'd ever battle with those guys again, but he wanted them with him. His friends.

"This isn't going to last forever, is it?" he said quietly.

It was one of those things you could only say at 1AM. The house was quiet. The world beyond the kitchen light's yellow glow was dark and sleeping. Plumeria and Guzma were the only people in the universe, and what happened didn't have to matter any more than a dream would.

"No," she agreed, her voice just as soft. She said it sadly, but with acceptance. Her eyes found his. "What will you do afterwards?"

He sighed. His hand found Golisopod's ball, a habit, a ritual of comfort. He wasn't alone. He wasn't weak. Smooth and cool, it was better than any hug he'd ever had.

"Dunno."

* * *

 **Professor**

Kukui hadn't come back for two months.

Guzma was pretty sure that Hala visited him. They worked together a lot, something about Pokémon and habitats and the mountain, the secret grove nobody was allowed into. But they always did it at Kukui's lab. Maybe the old man was lonely, now that his assistant had gone. Maybe he'd been avoiding Guzma.

That was probably just wishful thinking. Few people avoided him anymore. Even Hau treated him like one of the family, laughing off his moods, doing nice things for him. Guzma still didn't think he was like that all the way down, but he had come to accept that Hau's cheer was part of who he was. It wasn't fake, not like his dad.

He grimaced.

Kukui was waiting for an answer to his question.

"No," Guzma said. "No, I haven't been back. I won't."

Kukui nodded. "Your mom would like to visit."

He wrinkled his nose. He ran his thumb over Golisopod's Pokéball. "She can. If she wants."

"She said she understands. They belonged to you."

Guzma thought of the six Pokémon who were finally safe, out on the island Hala had shown him. Pelago. Incineroar and the others, they were happy. Snorunt, too, though she'd be a Snorunt forever now. He'd given away the Dawn Stone, to that kid who had stopped Lusamine and the Ultra Beasts. Had stopped his team, had come all the way to Shady House to fight him and take a Buginium. Without that kid, Guzma probably would have carried on forever as the boss of a lowlife gang. Some part of him had been grateful, even back then.

That kid was the champion, now.

"I'm apologising too," Kukui said. "For all the fighting, back in the day."

Guzma shrugged. It had been his fault, really. They'd grown up neighbours, and Kukui had gone his own way, ignoring the trials and the training and all of that. He'd been happy in his lazy lifestyle, contributing nothing, being an embarrassment to himself and others – so Guzma's father had said. Everything Guzma couldn't be, but wanted to.

Kukui got what he wanted out of life. He was a professor now. Respected, despite his weirdness.

When Guzma didn't speak, Kukui leaned back on the sofa. He'd come straight in and sat down with Guzma despite not being invited, but it wasn't Guzma's house, so he couldn't tell him to leave.

Some contrite part of him wanted to break the silence.

"I think I'm going to leave here," he said.

Kukui raised his head. "Why?"

He wasn't sure.

"I can't stay forever."

"Sure you could. You're not the only one who stays here, are you? Hala opens his house to everyone."

"I have to find Plumeria."

"Your admin?"

Guzma glared at him. "My _friend_." Then, embarrassed at having said it, he added, "Hala gave me a Z-Ring for her. She deserves it."

"Sure."

This was stupid. Of course Kukui didn't understand. Why would he? He had the perfect life, friends and respect and even a marriage, a place of his own, a career, as many Pokémon as he could handle.

"I'll ask around," he said. "I think Molayne on Ula'ula recently took a girl in. Pink hair."

Guzma grunted. That could be any one of the Skull girls. Some of them had quit, probably, had gone back to normal life and tried to make it work. Pepper had heard from Taro. He was out on Poni putting the Team Skull days behind him. Far away from his brother.

"What about after that?" Kukui said.

He didn't know.

Kukui smiled. "How about challenging the Champion?"

* * *

 **Elite Four**

The room was probably the fanciest Guzma had ever seen, and he'd spent enough time around Lusamine that that was no mean feat. Four doors, each with an insignia above it. He already thought he knew the deal.

 _Far left. Orange fist. That's the old man. Rock, Olivia from Akala. Purple splodge? Is that meant to be Nanu? And what the hell is that last one? Poni doesn't have a kahuna, does it?_

Kukui said he'd gathered the strongest trainers. That was why he'd sent Guzma, because Guzma could give them a run for their money. The realisation that Kukui thought he was strong was one that Guzma didn't know how to deal with, and he'd put it aside. But it also meant everyone here would be strong too. Nearly as strong as he was.

He folded his arms, considering his options. He didn't want to see Hala, not yet. He definitely didn't want to see Nanu. Olivia was going to be tricky; she stood a good chance of beating him, and he did _not_ want to fail at the first battle. It would have to be the mystery door.

Striding towards it as if he held no fear, he felt the reassuring weight of Golisopod in his hand. They could face anything together, head on.

The door opened. He walked forwards until he could see the person on the platform.

His breath caught in his throat.

"My name is Kahili," she said. "A few years ago, I was the champion of the island challenge..."

Her words faded out. All he could hear was his heart thumping in every inch of his body. Nothing else existed.

"Have a look at my fantastic flying-type team!"

She took a stance, frowning threateningly, and Guzma felt himself tense, every nerve jittering. His legs bent.

Kahili swung the golf club, and a thousand indistinguishable memories of pain crammed themselves into Guzma's head all at once, and he let out a strangled roar and ran for her. Before she could react he was on her, wrestling the club from her grip and throwing it across the room, pushing her down, tears streaming down his face. "Not this time!" he was shouting, "Not this time, old man!"

Kahili reached out and smacked the circular floor marking behind her with her Z-Bracelet, which came to life with white glare. Guzma dragged her back, shaking her roughly. "Who's weak? Am I still weak? _Am I?_ "

The doors at the other end of the room burst open, and Hala was there, with Olivia and Acerola behind him. Guzma didn't notice they were there until Hala was lifting him bodily away from Kahili, pulling him into a bear hug, shouting his name. "Guzma! Calm down! Calm _down_!"

Kicking and yelling, the words didn't even scratch the surface of Guzma's distress, and for several seconds the two physically grappled for control. Then Hala managed to pull the Pokéball from his belt, releasing a Machamp who immediately took over. Guzma kept struggling, but now in vain, and Hala pointed them to the portal. Machamp strode forwards and the two vanished back into the lobby room, leaving only silence.

The other two had attended to Kahili, who was back on her feet, though looking shaken. Hala approached her. "I'm very, very sorry," he said. "I had no idea he would react like that. What happened?"

Kahili shook her head, pale lips pressed tightly together. "We didn't even battle," she explained tearfully. "He looked terrified when he came in and I thought, well, it's his first time, he's nervous. But when I challenged him, he ran straight at me and tackled me. Shouting something about his old man."

A cold sweat broke out over Hala's skin. Old man? That was him, wasn't it? Had _he_ done something to make Guzma react in this way?

He rubbed his brow. He couldn't discount it as a possibility. "You didn't fight? He didn't send any Pokémon out?"

Kahili shook her head.

 _I thought he'd lost. I could have handled that._

"I'm very sorry. I'll go and talk to him."

* * *

 **Father Figure**

Guzma was at the entrance of the lobby, sitting on the floor with his back to the sealed door. His arms were wrapped around his knees, and he was staring into space. Machamp was crouched nearby, keeping an eye on him.

"Guzma," Hala said when he arrived.

No response. He was rocking gently, back and forth. His fists were red and raw from where he had lashed out at the Machamp.

Hala heaved a sigh and sat down opposite, legs crossed. "I need to know what happened. Why did you attack Kahili?"

It was several minutes before Guzma replied. "It's stupid," he said dully.

"I expect it's not."

"It _is_!" he shouted suddenly, arms tightening around himself. "It was pathetic! Stupid, stupid—"

He raised a hand, but wasn't able to bring it down on himself as the Machamp reached out, lightning-quick, and stopped the blow.

Guzma let out a frustrated yowl, as the Machamp said "Ma!" in reprimand.

"What happened, Guzma?" Hala pressed.

"She was going to hit me!" he shouted, burying his face in his shoulder. Machamp cautiously let his hand go, and he fisted his hair. "She was – I thought she was – she was like _him_."

 _Him._ Not _you._

It was someone else.

Hala took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled.

"Like who?"

Guzma's arm dropped. He glared at Hala, face haggard, eyes sunken, red blotches on his cheeks from the unconscious tears.

"The old man," he said bitterly. "He liked golf. He liked using golf clubs when—" his breath hitched, and he stopped.

 _Ah,_ Hala thought, his heart sinking. He'd wondered. With someone like Guzma, you had to wonder. Issues like those didn't come from nowhere.

He laid a hand on Guzma's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't realise it before."

"Don't be stupid! How could you know? You don't know anything, why are you sorry? It's his fault, his fault and mine. You have nothing to do with this!"

"I'm your mentor. I encouraged you to come here. This is my fault."

"You're not my mentor! You're just a nosy old man!"

"Then it's doubly my fault."

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

"Okay." Hala stepped back, giving him space. "If you want to leave, just let me know."

Snow was still falling when they left the hall, but dawn was breaking. Guzma, shivering and withdrawn, followed Hala down the mountain into the Pokémon Centre. Hala waved him to a seat while he used the PC, and then went to the cafe. He returned with a mug and a small plate.

"Here," he said, placing them on the table and sitting down. "Something to warm you up."

Guzma raised his eyes to observe the gift. Tapu cocoa and a lava cookie. "Why?" he asked in a bleak tone.

"An apology, like I said," Hala replied, this time without a trace of that irritating, knowing smile. "I got you into that situation. You had flashbacks, didn't you?"

Guzma nodded sullenly. He reached out and placed a hand around the mug. It burned his hand, and he kept it there.

"The old man," Hala continued levelly. "Your father?"

He nodded again. Hala sighed.

"That's what I was afraid of."

He'd met Guzma's father. A friendly man, always smiling and chatting, good with kids. It had been his idea for Guzma to become a Pokémon trainer. And to do the island challenge. And to become a captain.

The day Guzma had run away... Hala had realised it then. He hadn't looked closely enough at the boy, at what was underneath his tough veneer. It was painfully obvious – the same day Ilima was announced as Hala's captain, he disappeared. The two had been fierce rivals, and yet Guzma had never won in those encounters. Both of them battled with everything they had, but when Ilima lost, he was graceful. Guzma had been a bad loser every time; surly, angry, sometimes violent. But never blaming anyone but himself.

Retrospect was a cruel light.

"I'm sorry." The words felt small, insubstantial. He grimaced, repeated them with as much sincerity as he could muster. "I'm _sorry_. I should have done more when you were young, when I was your mentor."

No response.

"Did he hit you?"

Guzma nodded, his frown deepening. His hand tightened on the mug.

"With golf clubs?" Hala carefully kept his voice level.

Another nod.

"So when you saw Kahili..."

 _She was going to hit me._

"...you thought it was going to happen again."

Reluctantly, Guzma nodded again. "Stupid," he muttered.

"It makes sense," Hala disagreed neutrally. "Did he insult you?"

He stared at the table. "Yes."

"Call you weak?"

"Yes." His voice was growing smaller.

"Did he control your Pokémon career?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. What about your mother? Did she get involved?"

"No." Almost a whisper.

"Did he hit or yell at her?"

"No."

"Did she know it was happening?"

Barely audible, he replied: "...Yes."

"I see."

In the long silence that followed, Guzma relinquished his grip on the cooling mug of cocoa in favour of crumbling the lava cookie into dust. The way it ground and gave between his fingers was satisfying, somehow. He could almost pretend he was strong.

 _Stupid. You're weak._

Hala's voice was soft as he asked the next question. "Do you like being a trainer?"

An almost incredulous frown passed over Guzma's face and he nodded.

"Good. I'm glad." A hesitation, before: "Do you think you're a good trainer?"

Guzma began to nod, then stopped. Shook his head. Shrugged.

"Do you love your Pokémon?"

A delayed nod.

"Even the ones who aren't strong in battle?"

This time, a definite nod. That had been easily predicted; nobody who truly only cared about strength would catch and raise a Wimpod.

"I think that makes you a good trainer."

Guzma gave a faint _hmph_.

"You cannot have strength without a strong bond. You have that."

He supposed that was true. He'd seen it in Gladion, with the weird Pokémon he called his best friend. He'd seen it in Plumeria, with her Crobat. The Machamp today, doing what was needed without Hala even having to ask. Ilima and Smeargle, living in harmony. Most glaring of all was Hau, who played with his Pokémon like they were his siblings, always laughing.

Maybe _he_ would have been like that, if Hala had raised him. It was hard to imagine.

"Do you think Gladion is strong?"

Guzma wrinkled his nose. He'd beaten down that kid enough times to know he wasn't, not really. He only battled because it was the only thing he knew how to do.

"I ask because Lusamine is his mother."

No, not Gladion. But now that he thought about it, Plumeria. She was amazing: smart, strong, and yet _nice_ underneath all of it. Even though she'd been raised in a loveless home, alone and unwanted, she'd found a family. Guzma admired her more than anyone else in the world.

Slowly, he nodded.

 _Plumeria's parents said nobody would ever love her the way she was. That she was better off not being born. That's all wrong. Parents don't know jack. Why do I still believe mine?_

 _Because you ARE weak. Aren't you?_

There was only one way to prove that to himself. He clenched his fists, letting the anger build up. All the hatred, all the frustration, from losing everything, being beaten down, running away and then doing it all again with someone else, ending up back where he started, going home again like a failure, working himself up for the league and then falling at the first hurdle.

 _What is wrong with you?_

 _You're meant to be the most hated trainer, who beats you down and beats you down and never lets up. You can't do that if you can't win!_

The Skull kids would be rooting for him. Plumeria, with her wry smile that told him he'd never live it down if he gave up now.

Hau would be cheering him on too.

He leapt to his feet and let out a strong, heartfelt roar. It felt good. Then he smacked his hands down on the table, rattling the crockery. "Alright, old man!" he declared. "Get back in your room because I'm coming. I'm going to be the champion!"

Hala recovered instantly from his surprise, grinning and rising himself. "You think you can beat me, young man?"

"I know I can!" Guzma shouted back, pointing at Hala's face. "I'm the strongest bug user in all of Alola!"

* * *

 **Epilogue: Champion**

Plumeria lounged on a sofa all to herself, her long hair falling over the arm and almost to the floor. On the table before her were scattered pages from a notebook, pens, pencils and Pokéballs. She closed her eyes, enjoying the breeze from the huge windows at the back of the room. Things were so quiet here, in Hala's house. So peaceful.

"NNNGAAAAH!"

She opened one eye and glared disapprovingly at Guzma, on the sofa opposite, who was balling up another sheet of paper. He tossed it to the floor with more force than necessary, kicked the leg of the table, and scowled at the now-blank notebook on his lap.

"Do you have to be so loud?" she asked.

Guzma didn't reply, concentrating. She stretched lazily and rolled onto her side. "It's a dumb question, really. I've known you for what, three years? You're always loud."

Guzma was scribbling something.

"I liked that. All your feelings are so obvious."

He threw the notebook down and snapped, "I'm _trying_ to think!"

Involuntarily, her smirk widened. "Still stuck on the champ?"

"It's not fair, damn it! She gets to challenge everyone who shows up, and she gets stronger and stronger, and then when I finally get back to her, she's _changed_ her goddamn team! And Olivia won't stop making jokes about how obsessed I am and Kahili's not scared of me anymore so _she_ never stops talking and—"

"She's not? That's good."

He ignored her. "Ghost kid just dances around grinning like Hau, non-stop."

"And then there's Hala."

Guzma shot her a glare, throwing himself back against the seat. "I'm supposed to be hated! Feared! I'm the one who beats you down and—"

"Never lets up, I know, I know." She rolled over again to stare at the sun-bathed ceiling. "Even if you say that," she mused, "you've still got the last bit, haven't you? Not giving up."

She glanced at him for his response, but he wasn't listening. He was scribbling on his notebook again, devising strategies, movesets, combos...

She smiled to herself. He'd never admit it, but he was having the time of his life.

* * *

[AN: Obviously we don't see Guzma challenge the league in the postgame but I figured y'all would accept one last minor deviation from canon, for the sake of seeing our boy have a happy ending. If you feel like indulging me, I love reviews and I'd also like to know which mini-chapter was your favourite! That's all for now. Thanks for reading Wimp, aka Guzma Did Nothing Wrong- uh, I mean, Guzma Did Everything Wrong But We Should Love And Forgive Him.]


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